The Amulet Trilogy
by jennytork
Summary: A story in three chapters. Season Five: A near-accident leads Dean to discover Sam has kept the amulet. What happens after that?
1. The Arm

THE ARM

 _"HOLY SHIT!"_ was the only warning Sam got before the Impala was stopping too fast and there was an immovable object slamming into his chest.

It took a matter of seconds before Sam to realise that the object was Dean's forearm, slamming across as a makeshift seatbelt. He'd done that several times once he'd learned to drive and Sam was still little - "Mom-arm", Sam had affectionately teased him about it.

Sam's eyes went huge as he realised two things simultaneously. One, that they'd barely avoided being a statistic in a pileup - and two, that the arm hadn't moved from across his chest. Slowly, he turned his eyes to the left to find Dean staring at his arm, at the rolled-up sleeve that bared his arm because of the warm weather and the fact that it was resting across...

 _...oh._

Slowly, Dean's wide eyes rose to his face and he removed his arm, sliding the Impala to the side of the road so they wouldn't contribute to any more cars piling up in the fog.

After the crisis was over and the pileup was cleaned up and the brothers had stopped for the night, Dean turned to Sam once the motel room door was closed. "So."

"So." Sam smiled at him. He was thankful for the arm Dean had thrown across his chest. That instinctive move had told him without words that he was still important to his big brother.

"I felt the horns."

Sam just nodded.

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't let you throw us away."

Dean frowned. "I wasn't throwing _us_ away, I was throwing the _amulet_ away! Because it's a useless thing that can't find God!"

"I kept it because it's a treasure that I gave you and that means that we're brothers. No matter what."

Dean recoiled as if he'd been slapped. "...it means that to you?"

Sam nodded.

Dean looked away. "I..."

"I know you didn't know, and it's okay. I know and I'll keep it safe."

"Do you think you-"

"No, Dean. I'm holding onto it. To _us._ Until I know we're really brothers again."

Dean met his eyes. "How will you know?"

"Trust me, big brother." Sam curled his hand over the amulet under his shirt and smiled. "I'll know."


	2. Point Blank

POINT BLANK

In the three weeks since the pile-up on the interstate that revealed that Sam had kept and was wearing Dean's bulls'-head amulet, the brothers found themselves growing closer.

There had been bumps in the road - particularly when Sam had revealed exactly to what depths he'd sunk while Ruby had been manipulating him - but they were overcoming them, learning how to be brothers again in the midst of everything.

Dean even confessed the weird dreams he'd been having - dreams of Detroit and Sam trying to say yes and a bright light coming out of the amulet and then... And then, Dean would wake up.

With a headache.

Dean was still reeling over the fact that Sam had instantly recognised the symptoms and had diagnosed the bizarre dreams as visions. But, trusting his brother for the first time in forever, Dean had just gone out and silently stocked up on headache medicine.

For some reason, that amused Sam.

Sam's gentle but familiar taunts of "psychic-boy" didn't amuse Dean, however.

Bobby had never heard of visions swapping like this. Castiel suspected it had something to do with them being soulmates and having a shared Heaven.

Dean just wanted them to go away. Sam's completely understanding nod when he voiced that just made him feel worse.

This was iso/i not what he meant when he said he wanted them to be brothers again.

They still worked, though. During one hunt's preparations, Dean found himself dreaming that Sam was shot by one of the possessed people in the town they were going to.

Point-blank.

Having learned their lesson about communicating, they discussed ways to avoid that scenario once Dean woke with another headache.

But less than 24 hours later, Dean watched in horrified agony as one of the women they were trying to save with an exorcism whipped out a derringer and pointed it at Sam's chest - and shot.

Point-blank.

Sam's eyes were huge and he jerked, his body flying backward at the same instant that Dean gave up the exorcism and just flung the demon-killer knife into her throat.

"Sam!" he yelled, crashing to his knees beside his brother. "Sammy!" He froze as his eyes scanned Sam's long form.

No blood.

Sam coughed and opened his eyes, sitting up. The motion dislodged something from the folds of his shirt, and a flattened derringer slug fell harmlessly into Dean's palm.

Two pairs of huge, stunned eyes met. Then Sam hauled up his shirt and Dean saw a bulls'-head shaped bruise was forming over Sam's breastbone. The amulet swung there, unharmed, glowing ever so slightly. As they watched, the glow faded until it was just body-heat-warmed brass once again.

"...the hell?" Dean breathed as Sam lowered his shirt.

"I don't know," Sam breathed, just as stunned as his brother. "It's never done _that_ before."

"That's what it was doing in my dreams - only more intense." He grabbed Sam's wrists as he reached for the leather cord. "What are you doing?"

"Giving it back to you."

"No - dude, you need to keep it on."

Sam frowned. "But it's yours and if it's doing this, it needs to be with who it was meant to be with-"

"Sammy." His grip tightened. "I need you to keep it on. Wear it for me."

"...why?"

"At least... until Detroit."

Sam's eyes widened as he finally got it. "You think your vision is gonna-"

"This one did."

Sam lowered his hands. "Okay. Yeah. I'll keep it on."

They stood and looked at the small circle of bodies surrounding them. Meeting each other's eyes, they sighed in tandem.

A multi-body salt-and-burn was in their immediate future.

It was going to be a long night.

END


	3. Meant To Be Part One

MEANT TO BE

Sam woke slowly, stretching. As become his habit since the first morning after retrieving the thing, his fingers touched his chest as his arms lowered, feeling the familiar contours of the bull's-head amulet.

Dean had insisted he keep it till after Detroit. He kept having vision-dreams of Lucifer trying to take Sam over, a light coming out of the amulet, and then -

...And then Dean would always wake up.

Sam _knew_ how frustrating that was.

He glanced over at the other bed and gave a soft sigh at seeing Castiel's rumpled form curled up in it, dead to the world.

His powers were fading faster and faster now. To the point that food and rest were no longer novelties.

Sam shifted position, looking to his other side and smiling warmly. He and Dean had shared beds since they were children, and neither of them had thought twice about sharing one now that a third man was once more with them.

Dean was on his back, one arm straight at his side, the other curled around his stomach. His eyes were moving rapidly under their lids, and his brows would draw together in a frown and smooth out as Sam watched.

 _Dream_ , Sam diagnosed. _He's dreaming._

Dean's lips parted and a oft cry escaped as his eyes screwed tighter shut, tears of pain beading at the corners.

 _Not a dream,_ Sam thought wildly. _A vision!_ Without thinking, he lay his hand over the one on Dean's stomach.

Suddenly a still-familiar stab of pain jolted behind his eyes and the world dissolved into whiteness as Sam's first vision in three years developed.

He saw himself standing battle-ready. He saw a huge column of white-black smoke surrounding him, preparing to pour into his open mouth.

He saw his chest suddenly flare white-hot, and then-

The world turned black and, with a double-voiced cry of shock and pain, both Winchesters were sitting up, panting and wild-eyed.

The bed dipped as a sleepy-eyed Castiel sank onto the foot of it. "That's it," he said, his voice even rougher with sleep. "We are going to get the two of you diagnosed."

"'Diagnosed'?" Sam gasped.

"Visions do not spontaneously jump from one person to another," Castiel explained. "Much less be shared at a touch. Something strange is happening to the two of you. So we need to diagnose it." With that, he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

"Yeah?" Dean called after him. "And just where do we go to _get_ 'diagnosed'?"

"Lawrence!" Castiel called back.

"Lawrence?" Sam asked, tehn the brothers looked at each other as understanding dawned and they spoke as one.

"Missouri."


	4. Meant To Be Part Two

Missouri Moseley opened her door before anyone knocked. She glared at the trio on her porch. "You boys," she muttered. "I swear, I could just slap the crap out of all three of you. Come in." She stepped out of the way.

Abashed, they walked in and she put her fingertips onto Castiel's chest. "You - You go shower. Right now. The bathroom's that way. Throw your clothes outside and I'll wash them."

To his credit, he didn't argue. "What shall I wear in the meantime?"

"One of my son's outfits. I'll provide. You go shower."

"Yes, ma'am." He went meekly.

Dean pointed after him and just looked at Missouri. "What...how did..."

"I'm a mother, boy. You don't argue with a mother." She gestured toward the couch. "Sit. Both of you."

Sam sat and she carded her fingers through his hair. "My, my...it'll all be all right now, child. What's done is done."

Sam frowned. "But, Missouri, I-"

"You are forgiven, Sam."

Sam's eyes widened and he looked at Dean.

Dean nodded, smiling.

And at last Sam allowed himself to cry.

Dean sat down beside him and rubbed his back. "See, Sammy? Absolution."

"I don't deserve it," he sobbed. "Not ... Not after what I did..."

"No, son," Missouri said, coming to sit on his other side. "You did what you did with the right motives. You were _manipulated,_ Sam. _Used_. Since you were six months old."

"And he still is," Castiel said, coming barefoot from the bathroom, still drying his ebony curls with a ludicrously pink towel. "My apologies, Dean. Miss Missouri's son's clothing did not fit, so I borrowed some from your duffel."

Dean nodded. "I thought that jeans-and-t looked familiar. Here, trade you." He slid off his green flannel and handed it to Castiel, taking the brown one and sliding it on.

Castiel pulled it on and it was immediately clear why Dean had switched. The green was too large on Castiel. The brown would have swallowed him whole.

"Still...am?" Sam asked, blinking up at Castiel. "What-"

"Lucifer, baby boy," Missouri said softly. "Still trying to get you in his clutches."

Even though the tears still flowed, Sam growled. "I hate him. I'm tired of being used. Tired of being manipulated."

"Sam." Missouri took his hand. "I know what Dean's been seein'. I know what you're wearin'."

Sam's free hand clutched around the amulet he wore under his shirt.

She nodded. "And the rings. He knows about the rings. He don't know about the amulet. Keep it under your clothes." She squeezed his hand. "And I'm sorry, baby boy. It'll only work when you say yes. I know you don't want to - but when you do, you will be shocked at how well it will turn out."

Sam nodded slowly, processing it.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh...Missouri..."

Turning the smile at him, she asked. "Why are you the one having visions when that was Sam's 'special child' ability?"

"Yeah," Sam and Dean said together. Castiel sat on the coffee table, listening raptly to her.

"Does the name Andrew Gallagher mean anything to you?" she asked.

Dean's eyes grew huge. "That vision he tripped in me when you were at Cold Oak..."

Missouri nodded. "Sam was born a natural psychic. His abilities were affected and mutated by the demon blood. When Andrew fed you that vision, the pathways in your brain were altered so you could accept it. Otherwise, you wouldn't have seen a thing."

"But," Sam argued, "my visions stopped completley after Cold Oak. And his just started!"

"Psychic abilities are a form of energy," she went on. "Energy can not be created _or_ destroyed - basic physics. When you died at Cold Oak, that energy took the path of least resistance - it went to the closest person whose brain could now accept it. To Dean."

They nodded. That made perfect sense. "But why am I just _now_ having them?" Dean asked.

She smiled at Castiel. "You know why."

"I suspected why, ma'am." He nodded. "It is as I thought?" At her nod, he turned to an impatiently vibrating Dean. "They were blocked by the amulet."

Both brothers' eyes widened. Sam clutched it. "And since it's around _my neck_ now..."

"The pathway's open," Missouri began.

"...and I'm having visions," Dean sighed. "Okay."

"Okay?" Sam gasped. "How is _this_ okay?"

"Sammy, do you have _any_ idea of how many times I would helplessly watch you suffer through these and _beg_ to be the one carrying it instead of you? Well, guess what? Now I _am_ and you're _not. That_ makes this okay in my book."

Sam was stunned into silence for a long moment. Then he said softly, "I wish you didn't have to hurt."

Dean shrugged. "Hey - after Hell, a few vision headaches are nothin'."

Missouri leaned across Sam and touched Dean's knee. "I'll show you a few tricks, if you like."

He saw in her eyes - as did Sam - the unspoken _'I didn't offer before because we both know Sam wouldn't have accepted it'_. Dean nodded. "Thanks."

Sam felt simultaneously proud and shamed. To distract himself, he turned to Castiel. "And what's up with you? You're being particularly polite."

His blue eyes widened. "You - you don't _know?"_

"Know what?" they chorused.

"Castiel..." Missouri began.

"Miss Missouri," Castiel told the brothers. "She is a truth-teller."

"A psychic, yeah," Dean said.

"No, not merely a psychic." Castiel's voice was awed. "She is a _prophetess."_

Two jaws slammed open. Two pairs of green eyes widened and snapped to Missouri.

Missouri glowered at Castiel. She crossed her arms and glared at the brothers.

"I've _still_ got that spoon, boys," she drawled. "And I _still_ got _no_ compunction about crackin' it 'cross your behinds!"


	5. Meant To Be Part Three

Sam sniffed, running the back of his hand over his dripping nose.

"Oh, you're kiddin' me," Dean half-laughed. "Seriously? _Now?"_

"Dean, if I could control when these stupid allergies strike..." Sam sniffled and drug his sleeve over his nose.

Dean looked at Castiel and rolled his eyes. Castiel laughed softly - and _wow,_ that was a sound Dean wouldn't mind hearing again. By the look on Sam's face, he wouldn't mind hearing it, either. "You should laugh more often."

Castiel shrugged. "When this is over, perhaps there will be plenty of things to laugh about." Sam sneezed, and Castiel winced. "That is not one of them."

Sam sniffled again, and blew his nose on the tail of his shirt. Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, he nodded. "Okay. M'good."

"You're sure." Dean looked skeptically at him. "I mean, we could always reschedule this showdown until Your Majesty is feeling better..."

"Dean." And there was the acid glare.

"All right." Dean held up a hand. "M'just sayin'."

"Sam." The voice dripped velvet. The three turned, and there he was. His vessel's body was deteriorating at an alarming rate, but his eyes blazed with an unholy light. "You are unwell."

"I'm well enough for this," Sam said, sniffling softly.

Lucifer shook his head. "Well enough to say no? If you allow me, I will heal you from the inside out."

"M'not sayin' no. Not this time."

That threw him. His head tilted. "No?"

"I'm tired. I'm tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of everybody around me dying. Get it over with." His chin rose. _"Yes. I'll do it."_

Lucifer looked at Dean, who spread his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm against this and think he's stupid for givin' in."

A cold smile spread. With that reaction, he realised this was real. "Very well. Oh, Dean - you might want to forget about those rings you're palming. They're useless against me."

"We'll see," Dean growled. But he took his hand out of his pocket. No sense hiding the Horsemen's Rings - not if they were no longer a secret.

"Very well." His vessel's mouth opened and white-black smoke poured out of it. The vessel fell, and Castiel grabbed it and pulled it out of the way.

Dean looked wildly at him, and shocked blue eyes widened as Castiel nodded.

Against all odds, Nick Mason was _alive._

The smoke hovered, curling around Sam's body like an appreciative lover circling his intended. Sam couldn't resist the sneer of disgust. "Just _do it,_ already!"

It hovered before him, then. Waiting.

Sam nodded, relaxing into battle-ready stance and opening his mouth.

Ice slammed into Dean's gut as he realised _this is it._

The smoke rose, arcing gracefully toward Sam's open mouth and beginning to enter.

A small white dot appeared on Sam's chest, under his shirt.

The smoke pushed inside his mouth and he gagged.

The dot became a flare, shining white against the black of smoke.

Castiel's eyes widened. _"Shield your eyes!"_ he bellowed, throwing his body over Dean's.

The entire warehouse suddenly lit with white-blue light. An unearthly scream ripped through their consciousness, and then there was a shudder like an earthquake.

Dean reacted on instinct. He threw the rings toward the light and - eyes closed - screamed the incantation at the top of his lungs.

There was another tremble and the light faded. Dean and Castiel opened their eyes to see the rings sinking into the concrete floor. The concrete opened like a zipper, and a horrific wind blew.

The smoke was imprisoned in a cube of light that seemed tethered to the amulet that was now visible through the burned-through shirt on Sam's chest. Sam was staring at it with eyes lit from within by the same white-blue light that was coming from the amulet.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled.

"Go away," Sam said calmly, and Dean realised that he was talking to the smoke. "You're out too early. It's not time. Not now."

The smoke screeched as the cube glided forward and down into the hole, which closed over it.

"...goodbye, Prince of Lies," Sam whispered. The light from the amulet pulsed and he looked over at Dean and Castiel.

Dean slowly gained his feet, looking into the strangely glowing eyes. "...Sammy?"

"It isn't over," Sam said. "You might want to shield your eyes, guys. Just one more time. Because I'm going to explode."

"Sammy, _NO!"_ Dean wailed.

"Oh, no," Sam smiled. "Sam will be intact. I'll see to that. But I _am_ going to explode."

Castiel found his voice. "Who are you?"

Laughing, Sam shook his head. "I am not a who, Little Bird. I am a what. Made for such a time as this."

Dean's jaw slammed open. "You're the _amulet?"_

"I am what is inside the amulet. I have no name. But I have a purpose. And it is fulfilled - but in the filling, too much power was built up. I can not control it and I have only seconds left."

And Sam's entire body began to glow blue-white. Castiel grabbed Dean again and threw him against the wall, pinning him there with his own body.

Suddenly, there was a blast of sound and light. When it faded, Castiel turned and Dean shoved him away. "...Sammy..."

Sam stood there, in just his jeans and the torn remains of his shirt. The amulet - now just a lifeless piece of brass - sagged on its tattered cord. As they watched, the cord snapped and the bull's-head crashed to the ground and broke in two.

Sam looked up, huge-eyed. "...Dean..."

"Are you okay?" Dean ran to his side and took him by the arms, visually checking him over. "Are you okay, Sammy? Please, please say something..."

Castiel moved to Sam's side and helped support him.

"...Dean..."

Dean smiled, to see those eyes locking onto him. "Sam...are you-"

"Dean." It was Castiel. He'd pushed Sam's hair out of his face to see him better. There was something in his voice that caused Dean's stomach to clench.

When he met Castiel's eyes, the former angel whispered, "His ear is bleeding."

Dean's eyes snapped back to Sam's. "Sammy...c-can you hear me?"

Sam blinked sluggishly. "...Dean..." he said for the third time. "...s'it over?"

Numb, Dean nodded.

"Oh. Okay." Sam smiled slightly. "We did it."

"Sammy...Can. You. Hear. Me?"

Sam giggled - honest-to-God _giggled_ \- and shook his head. "But we won, Dean! We _won!"_

Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled like a puppet with cut strings.

Dean caught him and eased him to the ground, easing himself to the ground with him and holding his brother like he was still the baby Dean had carried out of a burning building all those years ago.

Castiel lay his hand between Dean's shoulderblades as Dean buried his nose in the thick waves that smelled of cheap shampoo and sweat and _Sam._ He left it there, a silent support, as Dean began to tremble.

To sob.

Somewhere in the breakdown, Nick opened glazed eyes and slowly sat up. He saw the trio kneeling there - the sobbing blond holding the unconscious giant, with the black-haired one's head bowed in fervent prayer.

Convinced this was part of the nightmare he'd been dreaming since he'd said yes to the prince of liars, Nick lay back down, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

END


End file.
